No love in VICELAND

I'm sure a lot of you have read and saved your copies of VICE magazine like I do: in plastic sleeves, chronologically filed in order, and stacked in storage for safe keeping. A second copy of each issue is used for highlighting, putting tabs on important articles, and cutting out awe-evoking pictures. Wait, none of that's true and it's hardly how my relationship with VICE has ever been. Never the less it's a great publication which is blunt, international, dirty, glamorous, exclusive, usually naked, always unapologetic, and straight up bitchy. Big respect for VICE. That being said: let's get down to business.

A few months before SuckitbySina got underway a few friends were starting a "zine," (if you don't know what that is, don't worry. I had to act like I was knowledgeable when I heard it too, until I could rush to a computer and google the fuck out of that word.) and they asked me to write my top-five "Dealbreakers" with explanations. At the time I had a list of about 60, without any background explanations. So I wrote the 5 which have since been featured here, one of them being "Dealbreaker: I won't date you if you sweat when not active, specifically on the chest, back, blah blah blah."

Soon after I got back to my apartment, stoned, and was in one of those bizarre moods that a life time supply of Cheetos, reality tv, and cigarettes can't cure. (Yes, usually that's all I need.)  I found myself on the VICE magazine website and came across a list of about 25 e-mail addresses of their editors, advertising people, photographers, and coffee-fetchin' bitches. I didn't care who they were, but I sent a separate e-mail with the 5 Dealbreakers I had already written to just about all of them.

Now hold up. I am in no way saying I should or could be writing for VICE, but I am saying that I think I have some funny moments. But when I opened my e-mail a few days later and got the following one line response, I thought it was too ironically amusing to be true:

"Some of us sweat from anxiety caused by the pressure of having to meet the standards of shallow girls."

Touche Mr. Vice, TOUCHE! I mean the name Sina could be mistaken for a girl, but I responded in a two sentence quip saying that I was a boy and it was all in good serious fun, but that he should already have known that. Mercy and morality lessons preached by VICE is a little bit "the kettle calling the pot black" considering their brilliantly ruthless writers.

It was all very appropriate, I would say.